Please see original story (www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/historical/the-heathens/) for warnings and copyright. Highlights: All fiction. All rights reserved. Includes sex between young-adult and adult men. Go away if any of that is against your local rules. Practice safer sex than my characters. Write if you like, but flamers end up in the nasty bits of future stories. Donate to Nifty TODAY at donate.nifty.org/donate.html to keep the cum coming.
I allowed him to take my offering three more times that night, and I dragged two more loads from him as well. I knew it was critical to cement this holy bond and drive home the essential truth of the Brotherhood of Christ while the tea was strong in him. God had made the herbs I brewed, and He had given me the knowledge of them through my mothers. He had also left me with the magnificent Harcos those years to hone and improve my skills at brotherly love. I realised as Inkar grunted and squealed his way through this night of ecstasy: This was why He had done so. This sad and blasphemous little flock had need of what I had been given, and God in his Mercy had given me, his servant, the tools to save them from themselves.
The Heathens 18: Words, My Weapons
By Bear Pup
The flower pestle in the first tea of the previous night has a fascinating story. Its tea has an important use in defeating specific demons that can attack the sacred tract of womankind. Over many years, and especially in the dry steppes to the north and west, a strange side-effect was found. For men, it has really only one major effect, that side effect just mentioned found in women needing its cure. It makes the ear scream when certain very high tones are used. Tones like the clicking of the steppe-locust, or like the little bent piece of metal in my sleeve.
I awoke to howls of rage and indignant curses. Father burst into the sleeping chamber to find their fanatical son, the one they named Denial and secretly-named as the foundation of their twisted fate, curled in my crotch with his stubble and chest flaky with my dried cum. The primordial screech of rage brought Inkar awake and holding his ears, as Father clutched his own when what he'd screamed hit them like a spike. I hobbled upright and retrieved my crutch, not bothering to do more than throw my shirt on. It barely covered my rather happy and satisfied prick and certainly did not hide its rampant state.
I also grabbed my herb-roll, quickly. I pushed past Father to find a demon incarnate. Mother's black hair exploded from her head and her eyes were sunken and wild. Her hands clenched into talon-like claws and she screeched in a way that silenced her with pain, then, when pain faded the least bit, redoubled in volume over and over again. Ismet sat blinking and mumbling, apparently praying to stop the horrible noise.
Father and Inkar stumbled out behind me and Father made as if to grab me. I held out my arms -- well, one arm; the other was keeping my upright -- like a half-Moses at a partial Red Sea. "SILENCE!" Beneath that bellowed word, I started to pop the little clicker back and forth, hiding it in my sleeve. When all four were clutching their ears and silence had fallen, I relented.
In my deepest, most-impressive voice, I decreed, "INKAR! Explain the Doom I have suspended!" Inkar began to babble. Mother screamed in outrage and I bellowed "SILENCE!" again and clicked away. In fits and starts, Inkar decried his heresy and defied his parents. He even added stuff I hadn't told him, beautifully-wrought to fit the narrative of true Christian love and brotherhood. The essential nature of touch, of kiss, of the sacrament of the sacred seed. I liberally used the clicker whenever the parents took umbrage, declaiming things like, "THIS IS GOD'S WILL!" and similar to cover the subtle agonising noise.
What became clear was that Inkar and Ayib had been true and insightful, as confirmed by the woman's own ravings the night before. Mother was frankly insane from her demonic possession and Father was her reluctant but powerless puppet. That made some things easier, like the restructuring of the family along Christian lines, both others -- like what to do with this murderous, twisted, sacrilegious creature -- far more complex. I sent Ismet outside, then Inkar and lastly Father and backed out as he left.
"Mother is possessed. Deeply and powerful. The demon perverts the faith--" She had come to the opening and I clicked several times in a way that made the sound more potent in the doorway than behind me where the others sat; she fell backwards into the hovel's gloom, "--in ways that disgust and offend the One True God. Inkar! Father! Go into--" click-click-click; she retreated, "--to the village. Take these coins--" Harcos had known better than to leave a single, whole golden Caracalla Aureus in this backwater. Instead, he left me silver and lesser-gold far in excess of the amount he promised and tried to hide it in the maths. "--and hire a house-builder. We may yet save Mother--" bullshit; she was crazier than Dionysian with blue-balls, click-click-click, "--but not the house. None of us may sleep there again."
They flat ran toward the village. Ismet was cross-eyed in pain and confusion. "Ismet! Care for the young. Taken them to release the animals to graze then into the forest to gather. Go quickly! This demon--" click-click-click, "--is powerful and tests even my Sacred Mysteries." She and those children peeking around the walls vanished as quickly as Father and Inkar.
I set about assembling a powder, intricate and dangerous, to use in the exorcism that was required here. The demon in that woman was, perhaps, the strongest I had ever met, perhaps the strongest I have ever heard discussed. The vessel holding the demon was even more delicate; years of demonic tyranny had left her fragile and perhaps impossible to save. The powder I ground in my fingers (my mortar and pestle still trapped in my pack in the hovel) would certainly incapacitate both vessel and invader. Whether there would be anything left of the Christian soul when the demon was driven away, though, was a matter for God alone in his wisdom.
When Father and Inkar returned, and Ismet with the children, I faced the opening of the hovel as they spread in an arc well behind me. Again, I turned to the vile Latin of Rome to ensure the power of the sounds, for the prayer would work as well in any tongue. "Princeps gloriosissime caelestis exercitus!" I planned to quote Matthew, Timothy and the Revelation of John, but started with the Epistle to the Laodiceans, egregiously stolen by the Pauline heretics as the Epistle to the Ephesians. "Sancte Michael Archangele, da nobis 'aciem adversus principes Potestates--"
The creature began to scream and writhe, in part because I waited for her to rush the doorway and blew the powder into her path. "--principes autem adversus mundi rectores tenebrarum harum," She howled and dropped, "contra spiritualia nequitiæ, in excelsis!" The deon, rocked to the core by the words of God and by the power of His holy herbs, began to quake then twitch and finally exploded into a seizure delivered by the Most High God.
There was more to the prayer, and most of the powder to blow upon the demon-infested body, but the rest is easy to find in scripture. If you have had the sad duty to expel a High Demon, you know it already. It took perhaps half an hour to finally dispel the demon who took this woman so many years before, screaming in agony from the exorcism. As the last phrases rang forth, "Quaesumus, per Jesum Christum Dominum nostrum!", The High Demon screamed defiance as it fled the fleshy shell of the woman these poor people had known as Mother, leaving her limp and near-lifeless.
They carried her from the house to a tent already erected by the builder who arrived during the horrible, terrifying ordeal. They were Heathens to a man, and simply shook their heads, but knew true Evil when it left that woman and warded themselves against it. She died before sunset, her soul and life eaten away by the horrible and unshakable possession she carried (and, I knew in my heart, had encouraged and perhaps even conjured in her lust for power).
Exhausted but far from done with my duty to my new family, I spoke to the builders. They were reluctant until I showed them coin, but agreed to build to my request. It would be a Christian home, with space to expand our family with several wives for me and Inkar and perhaps even Gunah. Ismet would find a husband of her own and with my help bring him to The Light. The twins, Pakliq and Safliq, though, would be the new Mothers of this family and my senior wives. Inkar (and if he grows in faith and truth, Gunah) could never share them for it is proscribed by the prophets, but other wives shall join us in holy union as we grow.
The babes would have their sanctuary to the far end, the women in their time a niche of sumptuous comfort, the children their play- and sleep-room, but the rest of my family would revel in a glorious nest of Sacred Sharing and Christian Love. It would cost, perhaps, a twelfth what Harcos left me, but it was the foundation upon which a Christian family, a Christian understanding and perhaps a Christian faith might thrive. It was the gift of the divine if unclean Harcos, the holiest man I had ever known.
KUCUK
Stelio directed Volot and I as we salted and tied slab after slap securely to two poles, lost in confusion and terror at the threat we'd been told was around us. More immediately, how in seven hells could cooking venison keep an enemy at bay? And what difference would it make since the dry, wooden poles would burn in minutes?
The brilliance of this arrangement became clear as Pyrkagia arranged the first set of poles. The meat hung below the poles. The meat itself protected the dry wood. Before long, the entire carcass, in small and manageable slabs, was roasting succulently over the coals. The fumes were intoxicating as Pyrkagia threw handfuls of leafy herbs to blast pungent smoke upwards and flavour the meat.
We ate insanely-well that night as dusk fell. At the insistence of our masters, Volot and I ate our fill of the deer, relishing every bite. We packed away the bulk of the succulent flesh in tight, salted-cloth for the journey ahead. Volot and I found ourselves strangely alone at one point after full dark until the men retuned pretending drunkenness. The game was beyond us to understand. Some itch, some divine nudge, made me go to Prykagia. I taught him a simple phrase in the trade language of our area. He looked bemused but humoured me, repeating it back beneath his voice in that incredibly-deep register.
Harcos would not even consider play that night, and I was miffed at his attitude. I had to sleep with Agyar AND the staff. He basically locked me in his arms and twined his legs around me, trapping me in a position that eventually led to my slumber. It was hours later, the depth of the night, when a thousand bells chimed at once.
Harcos was up and out, the tent-wall gone, before the first tinkle bounced. I had no time to plan, to pray, to even think. I rolled upright and the jagged end of my staff found a face running toward my master's back. He screamed and without thought my Agyar finished him. He would not again threaten my Harcos.
It was like fighting rats then. They boiled from the darkness like a tide, unstoppable and inescapable. But they fell to my pike, my Agyar, the sword or shield or punch of Harcos. By screams and howls I could tell that equal numbers fell before the other four. They fell, but would not do so forever.
I screamed in trade language, "NO! Mighty Roman demon do not consume these ignorant creatures! I beg thee! Do not take that child to be your vessel again!" in Latin I yelled, "Now, Pyrkagia, NOW!"
Our youngest/oldest friend stood and intoned, deep and terrible, at the top of his lungs and the depth of his register, "FEED ME! BRING ME THEIR LIVERS TO EAT!" This stygian, chthonic voice from what seemed a child's body stunned the attackers, but his words shivered them. The fact that the words were broken and indistinct simply fuelled their fear.
I screamed at the top of my lungs, "NO! Oh, by the Gods, Demon! You have devoured so many. Take not all these souls to your hell! Have mercy, Creature!"
"BRING ME... LIVERS!"
It was a tide reversed. The mass of bodies now boiled in vocal desperation to escape. Harcos killed two who failed to flee, and suddenly there were no more attackers. The three warriors dispatched the wounded combatants, and I saw disgust and grief on the face of my master. The perimeter was rebuilt and we gathered around the fire.
Pameten spoke, low and sad, "Twas the venison."
Stelio nodded, "They were starved, desperate."
Harcos rose and grunted, no words in his voice, and stormed to our tent. I followed and replaced the covering of the opening as best I could before joining him.
He was scowling with an expression I had never seen. A blazing fire that defied the gods themselves. He literally growled at me as I settled before him. I rolled to where my belly was to him, the type of submission-posture normally seen in dogs and wolves, and invitation to be eviscerated.
In my smallest voice, I whispered, "How have I failed you, my Aldus?"
"DO NOT CALL ME THAT!" The bellow could be heard across mountains.
I wriggled closer, almost into his lap. "Please my, my, my Harcos, what have I done?"
"NOTHING! You have done NOTHING! LEAVE ME!"
That was not within me to do. He could kill me, rip my limbs apart, but I could never leave him like this.
"I-I-I-I-I r-respectfully refuse, my master. I will n-n-never leave you. You are my Aldus, my Harcos, my salvation, my everything. You hurt and thus I hurt. Please, I beg you, tell me why!"
He stayed silent for an eternity. He sighed so deeply it was like a wind blew the walls of the tent. "This was not battle! This was slaughter! They were starving, desperate, dying. And. Still. They. Came!"
God gave me a glimmer of a thought, and my mind-Strasta fleshed it out. "You are right, my master, you should have let them slay me and take me for meat along with the venison. That, of course, would have been just."
The roar was impressive, even considering my elevated standard for barbarian warriors. He grabbed me like a hare and brought me to his face. "YOU MOCK ME!"
"No, my saviour, I mock your folly! Kill me if you like, but you are worth a thousand of those creatures. They set to kill you, to kill me and Pam and all the rest. Aldus, my Aldus, you saved us all and you mourn the fact that they made you do so. They killed in need and callous disregard of all of our lives; YOU, my Aldus, you killed because you had no CHOICE."
I found myself wrapped in a cocoon of weeping man-flesh. "But I KILLED!"
I dragged him into me as fiercely as he cradled me. "Yes, my Aldus, but because you had no choice."
He rocked me for a time I could not calculate then sat back, suddenly startling me. "What did you do, that thing with Pyrkagia?"
I chuckled into his chest, "These men, the Heathens of the plains, all think their souls reside in the liver. I taught Pyrkagia a phrase, 'Bring me their livers to eat!' I begged the evil Roman demon to spare them, then Pyrkagia, the tiny boy, bellowed in the deep voice of a demon and they fled!"
He pulled back and turned my head to his. "Dasqas, you are a treasure beyond price."
"No, my Aldus, I just try to think what you, my master, salvation, saviour may need and try to lay it in wait."
"I am no one's MASTER, you impudent imp and impertinent child!" He bridled and fumed.
"I am NO child, you ignorant, smelly, barbarian prick. I am a MAN defending the MAN that I care for. The man that I CHOOSE to call master. Complain to the wind, to the rain, to the SUN! I don't care. I will see you as master and LOVE YOU FOR IT whether you consent or not. Sleep a lonely night in cold pelts, you fucking, insensitive bastard! I'll sleep by some other fire where I am not dismissed as a nuisance!"
I rose and had reached the tent-closure before his giant hand grabbed me. He pulled me, scratching and biting into his arms, curling my spitting and raging form into his chest.
"Bite me with those sharp teeth, Kucuk my puppy. Scratch me with the edges of your jewel, my Dasqas. Rage and cry and wriggle and writhe, my perfect and precious little one. I deserve every nip and every cut. But you will not escape me, my wondrous little Kucuk. I will never be your master. You will never be my slave. But perhaps, just perhaps, we will be those things of each other."
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Active storelines, all at www.nifty.org/nifty/gay... Canvas Hell: 25 chapters .../camping/canvas-hell/ Beaux Thibodaux: 16 chapters .../adult-youth/beaux-thibodaux/ The Heathens: 18 chapters .../historical/the-heathens/ Off the Magic Carpet: 11 chapters .../military/off-the-magic-carpet/ Lake Desolation: 10 chapters .../rural/lake-desolation/ Dear John Letter: 3 chapter .../military/dear-john-letter/ Brother Bear: 2 chapter .../incest/brother-bear/ Shark Reef: 3 chapters .../adult-youth/shark-reef/
Special collaboration with Brad Borris: In God's Love .../incest/in-gods-love/